#( – ♡ ˙ ❛ drabbles ❜ )

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — "Where is she?" Sukuna demanded, crimson eyes scanning your floral shop with predatory focus.

You glanced up from where you were arranging a vase, not bothering to hide your smile at his agitation. Five years together had taught you when his rage was genuinely dangerous and when it was… well, this…

"Good morning to you too," you replied calmly, tucking a spring of baby’s breath into the arrangement.

As he moved past you, you noticed a small splotch of blood on his cheek. Without a word, you reached out, catching his sleeve to stop him momentarily- his eyes flashed down at you, but he allowed it. He watched as you dabbed at the smeared mark with a wet cloth you’d been using to wipe up the counter… Wiping away the evidence of whatever or whoever he’d encountered before coming home.

Releasing his sleeve once his face was clean, you pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, "Last I saw her, she was out in the back garden counting butterflies."

"She called me," he growled, "Said she needed me for 'urgent business."

Your chuckle only darkened his scowl, "I told her, not to use your emergency number unless it was an actual emergency."

"But this IS an emergency!!" A tiny voice piped up from the garden doorway.

There she stood, his five year old daughter, a miniature mirror of himself. Even at her young age, she commanded attention with the same natural authority as her father, though her methods relied more on charm than intimidation.

"Someone stepped on Mr. Squiggles…" she announced, crimson eyes -identical to Sukuna’s- already brimming with tears.

Your heart broke at the sight, and you instinctively moved towards her. However she completely dodged your approaching form, instead running straight to her father, her small flip-flops slapping against the wooden floor.

Sukuna's brow furrowed as he looked down at her, towering over her tiny frame, "Who the fuck is Mr. Squiggles?"

"Language," you murmured, though the truth is you accepted long ago that battling Sukuna’s vocabulary was a losing war. 

"My caterpillar!" She whined, grabbing her father’s much larger hand and tugging with surprising strength, "You have to fix him!"

Sukuna’s eye twitched at the fact he was called from what he was doing to come home to this, but still he allowed himself to be led through the kitchen and into the garden. He shot you a look over his shoulder that clearly said, This is what constitutes an emergency?

You merely smiled, following them outside where the morning sun warmed the small garden. 

"There!!" She pointed dramatically to a small patch of milkweed where, upon closer inspection, a slightly squashed monarch caterpillar lay motionless… 

Sukuna crouched down, his massive frame folding with surprising grace as he examined the tiny creature. His hands -those same hands capable of unspeakable violence, hands that had broken bones and drawn blood without hesitation- hovered with unexpected gentleness over the crushed caterpillar.

"Who stepped on him?" He asked, voice deceptively calm in a way that made you tense slightly.

"It was mama’s helper," she sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek...

"Mama's helper, huh?" Sukuna growled, his eyes sliding towards you, a dark glint in his gaze, "I'll have a nice little chat with them later, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart. The endearment rolled off his tongue in a way that seemed to go against his very nature, but that's precisely how you knew he was serious. When Sukuna used terms of endearment, it meant he would make sure this person paid for making his little girl cry. 

His attention turned back to the caterpillar, and he gingerly poked it.

"Can you help him, daddy?" She pleaded, with complete faith in her father’s abilities shining in her bright little eyes, "Make him all better?"  

"He’s pretty fucked up" he said bluntly…

"But-" She looked up at him, little hands clutching his sleeve, wrinkling the fabric, "You fix everything… mama told me lots of times how you make everything better!" 

Something tightened in Sukuna's chest- that familiar, uncomfortable squeeze that happened whenever his daughter looked at him like he hung the fucking moon. Like he wasn't the same man whose name made certain parts of the city go silent with terror.

"Not everything can be fixed, kid," he said, gentler than most would believe him capable of.

"Mr. Squiggles is hurt pretty badly, sweetie." Your voice was soft as you kneeled beside the two of them, the grass cool against your knees.

Her eyes started to well up again, tears spilling over, "B-but… Daddy makes us better when we get sick… an- and when my tooth fell out… an- an-"

Sukuna gave you a look that asked for backup, but you merely smiled sympathetically, leaving him to navigate this particular minefield alone.

Traitor.

Sukuna's jaw tightened the moment he looked back at his daughter, "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, a muscle working in his cheek as he carefully scooped up the flattened caterpillar onto a leaf, "I’ll try... No promises though."

It was a strange sight, watching Sukuna- this feared and powerful man, gently cradling this little creature in his hand. His expression was stern, yet focused as he brought it close to his face, examining it intently.

"Ah! Thank you, daddy!!" his little girl threw her arms around his neck, nearly toppling him backwards.

"Yeah...," Sukuna murmured, "No problem." His large scarred hand came up to steady her, patting her back with affection that had become less awkward over the years, "Now go get me a box, brat."

She beamed at him, eyes practically sparkling at the use of her favorite nickname before darting off, her footsteps quick and excited.

Sukuna remained crouched over the very much dead caterpillar, feeling rather foolish.

"How's the patient?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, kissing the nape of his neck.

"You told her I make everything better?" his tone almost accusatory.

"I mean, you do~" you replied sweetly, and he snorted, turning his head just enough to give you a warning look, which only made you giggle. "Think of all the things you fix and make better. My life is significantly better with you in it,” he rolled his eyes as you continued, “and you fixed that leaky faucet, broken toys, scraped knees… Your motorc-"

"Not dead bugs."

"Mm… Yeah… Well, maybe Mr. Squiggles is just stunned…"  You glanced at the small green body still unmoving on the leaf, "I'm sure if anyone can wake him up, it's you." 

"It's fucking flattened," he muttered, examining the leaf in his palm.

Your daughter returned with a small pink box lined with fresh leaves, her face scrunched in concentration as she focused on not tripping, "Here, daddy!! The bug hospital!"

She leaned in close, her small hands braced on her father's knee as she watched him place Mr. Squiggles in the box. The contrast between them was striking- his hands scarred and powerful, hers tiny and unmarked. Yet there was no fear in how she pressed against him, no hesitation in how she invaded his space.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, voice ever so small and hopeful.

Sukuna's eyes remained fixed on the container, his mouth set in a hard line, "Don't know. Might take him a while to recover."

"So we have to wait?" she sighed, and you smiled at the familiar sound.

Sukuna nodded, and you felt a rush of affection at how patiently he was trying to deal with this.

"Oh..." 

Then, without any kind of warning, she looked up at him, "Daddy," she asked with the sudden, left field logic that only children possess, "would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Sukuna went absolutely still, his entire body tensing... The leaf he'd been adjusting tore slightly under the sudden pressure of his fingers. He turned his head slowly to look at his daughter, eyes narrowing as if she'd just asked him a trick question.

"The fuck kind of question is that?" his voice was rough, but his tone lacked any real bite.

She didn't flinch at his harsh tone- she never did. Instead, she just blinked those crimson eyes -so like his own- and repeated herself with the stubborn persistence only a five year old could muster, "If I was like Mr. Squiggles… I- If I got stepped on and turned into a worm. Would you still be my daddy?" her little eyebrows scrunching up in worry.

Shit… It was a serious question.

He ran a hand over his face and then back through his hair, a gesture you recognized all too well… he was thinking, very hard. You'd never seen him so thrown off, and you couldn't help but hide a smile behind your hand.

"Listen," he said finally, setting the box aside and turning to face his daughter fully.

"B-Because, maybe you wouldn't-" a small hiccup interrupted her, "maybe you wouldn't l-love me anymore."

You moved to step in, but Sukuna held up a hand, stopping you. His eyes never leaving his daughter's face, "Look at me," he commanded, his voice low but steady as he dropped to one knee, brining himself to her level.

It was a position he would allow with no one else, an exception he only made for her. "Listen carefully, because i'm only saying this once," his finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face up, "You're mine. My blood. You don't get to escape from that." his tone was deadly serious, the same tone he used when making promises that would be kept regardless of cost. "So," he continued, thumb swiping across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear, "worm or not, you're still my brat. That clear?"

Her red rimmed eyes widened, "Really?"

"Really." taking his thumb from her cheek he lightly flicked her forehead, making her giggle, "And if anyone tried to step on you…"

"You'd protect me?" she leaned against him, arms coming up around his neck, hugging him tightly, "Just like always, right?"

Over her head, his eyes met yours, and something passed between you… "I’d burn this whole damn city to the ground," his words carrying the unmistakable weight of truth, "Anyone who touched you would die screaming."

What should have been horrifying was instead comforting- the absolute certainty that this man, this monster who had chosen to be your protector, the father of your child, would tear apart the world to keep his daughter safe. To keep you both safe.

"I knew it," her tiny voice was muffled against him, "Mama says your heart is bigger than you pretend…" nuzzling into him, she added those three little words that made his throat visibly tighten, "I love you, Daddy." and you saw the moment Sukuna's eyes softened as they did only for you and her.

"Yeah well… Your mother talks too much," he grumbled, his hands moving to throw her over his shoulder.

"Daaaaadddyyyyy" she squealed, tiny legs kicking playfully against him, but there was no real resistance, no fear when he was the one holding her.

Sukuna turned to leave the garden, pausing by your side. His large hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair to draw you in with controlled force for a rough kiss. It was his habit- the physical equivalent of an ‘I love you.’

"Love you too," you whispered against his lips.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Later that night, after Sukuna had tucked his daughter in bed, you found him sitting out in the garden, nursing a glass of alcohol and staring at the pink bug hospital.

You slid onto the bench beside him, and he lifted his arm automatically, allowing you to tuck yourself against his side. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet and each other's warmth.

"I replaced it," he broke the silence first, his voice rumbling in his chest against your ear.

You blinked in confusion as you looked up at him, "Replaced what?"

"The flattened bug. What else? It was dead as shit. Found another on a bush at the edge of the garden."

A small laughed escaped you, "Of course you did."

He shot you a look that was both irritated and slightly embarrassed, "Don't start with me."

You trailed your fingers along the tattoos marking his chest, feeling his heart beat steady beneath your touch. "You know," you murmured, "for someone who claims to care about nothing, you’ve gotten awfully good at caring for everything that’s yours." You pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Tch," he clicked his tongue, "fucking ridiculous." he grunted, but his arm tightened around you, "This is what i've been reduced to. Hunting a replacement bug for a five year old..." His expression sobered, "You ever regret it? This life?"

The question surprised you, Sukuna never voiced uncertainty about your relation, ever... "Not for a second," reaching up to caress the mark beneath his eye, "I knew what I was getting into."

He caught your hand, pressing a rare, gentle kiss to your palm, "No you didn't."

"I knew enough," you insisted, "I knew I was in good hands when it came to you, and that's all that mattered."

His eyes, crimson and sharp, searched yours, finding nothing but absolute certainty and trust, "And you're still not afraid?"

"Not of you. Never of you."

He made a sound low in his throat, pulling you into his lap with an ease that still thrilled you to this day. His hands -the same hands that cupped his daughter's face with tenderness, the same hands that would come home time to time stained with blood- framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones.

You smiled, leaning into his touch, "And I’ll always be yours, even if you turned into a worm."

A startled laugh escaped him, genuine and unguarded, before he captured your mouth in a kiss, deep and possessive- promising things no words could quite capture and a lifetime of protection.

Prt2. │ ˚₊‧꒰ა. 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[anglbunny]

FIRST TIME RIDING SUKUNA

smut mdni, hand kink, size kink, visual overstimulation

You didn’t expect it to feel this way.

You’d seen his cock already — thick, veiny, way too big for comfort — but seeing it and riding it were two completely different things. Right now, with your thighs trembling around his hips and your chest heaving from the effort of trying to take just the tip — reality was finally settling in.

He didn’t fit. Not really. Not all the way.

But Sukuna wasn’t known for patience.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice rough with a dark kind of amusement. His hands — those huge fucking hands — were gripping your waist, spanning damn near the whole thing. One twitched slightly, then forced you down an inch further. You cried out, your insides fluttering and squeezing instinctively around him. “That little pussy’s gonna stretch whether she wants to or not.”

You shook your head, fingers clawing at his chest, trying to keep some distance. “I-I can’t—! It’s too—fuck, it’s too big—!”

Sukuna laughed, deep and dangerous, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles that made your hips jolt involuntarily.

“Oh, you can,” he said, voice all smoke and cruelty. “You’re already halfway there. Just look.”

Your eyes snapped downward — and your stomach flipped.

Only half his cock was inside. And you already felt full, stuffed, stretched wide open. Your lips were spread around him in a taut, obscene O, slick glistening down his shaft, and he still hadn’t bottomed out. You tummy sporting a very prominent bulge from his cock.

“Shit…” you whimpered.

“You’re takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ,” he purred, almost mockingly. His fingers moved again — not just on your clit, but his other hand shifted up to your neck. Not choking, just resting there. Heavy. Possessive. Thumb brushing your throat like he could feel the noises spilling out of it.

“So damn loud already,” he grinned, cock twitching inside you. “And we haven’t even started moving.”

When he did move — when he bucked his hips just slightly, sinking another brutal inch into you — your moan turned into a strangled sob.

“Fuck—Sukuna—!”

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, voice feral. “Ride it. Scream if you need to — scream loud. Let everyone know this pussy’s mine now.”

You tried to lift your hips again, to ease the pressure, but he grabbed you again — both hands on your ass now, big fingers digging in mercilessly as he held you down and thrust up, slamming in deeper, deeper—

You screamed.

Back arched, eyes rolled back, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you choked on his name again and again. Your body didn’t know whether to fight it or come.

“Too big,” you sobbed, even as your cunt clenched around him. “I can’t—gonna break—”

Sukuna grinned, all teeth and filth and menace.

“Then break.”

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan @ethxrxxlity

A/N: haven't wrote for him in a while

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[nanaphrenia]

thinking about yuta seeing your pussy for the first time. ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱

bf!yuta who practically falls to his knees in front of you when you finally peel down those pretty pink panties and show him your wetness.

“g-god.. my baby, so pretty.” he’d murmur as he holds your thighs in his big hands, pressing wet and needy kisses to your ankles all the way up to your inner thighs.

he’d spread your folds with his fingers and practically groan as he sees you dripping, your cunt clenching around nothing. his gaze is searing, and you can feel him picking you apart. when you try to swat him away, his grip on your thighs will just grow tighter and he’d look up at you.

“stop.. ‘m admiring what’s mine..” he’d say with an adorable pout.

bf!yuta who begs you to let him eat you out, to let him make you feel good. and obviously, you can’t deny him for so long. not when he’s practically crying to give you pleasure.

his nervous tongue would lick a long stripe up your slit, and he’d close his eyes and moan as your taste and smell overwhelms his senses. “taste so good, baby..” he’d murmur before diving in and tracing his tongue around the rim of your hole, his nose bumping against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars.

you’d grip his hair tight and pull on the raven strands, trying to get him closer. he’d growl in an almost animalistic way, his tongue darting out to delve into your folds, wriggling inside of you as he scream and moan.

your sounds are music to his ears, and it’s hard to ignore the tightness of his pants and the pre leaking into his boxers. he’d grind his hips down onto the bed while making out with your pussy, long black lashes fluttering under his eyes.

bf!yuta who doesn’t stop tongue fucking you even after you come, your heels hitting against his back and you squirming and crying out in pleasure and pain, begging for mercy. he just can’t get enough of you.

“nnoo.. don’t pull away.. just one more, please babg? i promise just one more. wanna taste you.”

but one more turns into 2, and then 2 turns into 3 and the next thing you know he has you shaking and writhing beneath him, his long, slender fingers pounding into you, stroking your g-spot with each thrust while his tongue laps greedily at your clit.

his jaw and mouth had started hurting a while ago, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. not when his gorgeous baby was feeling so good all because of him <3

©nanaphrenia on tumblr. do not repost to another platform or translate my works without permission.

[satoblue]

MDNI, f!reader, smut between a sentient robot and a human, satoru is still a cocky bastard (i love him), he is very curious, he has a metal cock and knows how to use it, slight breeding kink. | wc: 1.2k | dividers made by me <3

robot satoru . . . he is a machine built in the image of a man — a painfully handsome one at that (not that you’d ever admit it out loud). he was engineered to perfection, a man of metal with an artificial intelligence too advanced for human comfort. and for some reason, he is utterly fascinated by you.

or more specifically — what you are. a female human; a woman. soft where he’s hard, warm where he’s cold. the opposite of what he represents, his other half biologically (if he were human) so to speak. but really, he is intrigued by how your feeble body responds to him — responds to sex… or as he likes to call it — “pleasure testing”. and all in the name of science, of course.

and in your case, you’re not sure what’s more degrading — the way his metal hips slam into you with flawless precision in a brutal rhythm, his cock angled just right to hit that one spot over and over — or the way he groans, voice crackling with static, sounding far too pleased for something that shouldn’t even be capable of feeling desire.

“you’re so tight,” he murmurs. “ideal conditions… optimal for breeding.”

…a robot said that.

you should be horrified. you want to be horrified. but instead, your cunt pulses and flutters around him, slick gushing out of you like your body’s trying to please him, trying to coax release from something that doesn’t even produce it.

it doesn’t matter, though. because your body - your biology - it doesn’t care. it only knows one thing: that he’s filling you perfectly.

your face burns with shame as you bury it into the pillow beneath you, your thoughts completely turned to mush.

how humiliating.

but it’s working.

and the worst part is — he knows. you know that he knows. because satoru (or so he is called) knows everything — too intelligent for his own good (or yours).

“you liked that,” he drones clinically, sounding oddly amused. you whimper. “heart rate elevated. body temperature increased by 5.3 percent. pupils dilated—”, the robot goes on and on, listing symptoms off.

you shiver from both his words and his curious caresses, smushing your face further into the cushion in a weak attempt to hide. because he’s not just fucking you — he’s monitoring you.

nothing slips past him. not a single moan or clench. every tiny reaction is being logged and analyzed in real time. and he doesn’t break a sweat (obviously), but you can hear his sensors whirring loudly above you, his fans struggling to cool him down as he overheats from the exertion — from the effort of fucking you into your own mattress.

you’re laying flat on your stomach, your back in a deep arch, your bottom swaying in the air and colliding repeatedly with his mean hips.

satoru’s got you in doggy — or, as he not-so-helpfully noted earlier, “the position most commonly utilized by your primitive ancestors. it is preferred due to its reproductive efficiency.” his voice was emotionless when he said it, like a line straight from a school textbook.

cold metal hands spread your cheeks wide, keeping you open for him to observe the motions of him entering and exiting your hole — splitting you open. and you’re beneath him, shaking, stretched taut on the cock he custom built for you to test your limits.

“you’re taking me surprisingly well,” your ears barely pick up on him speaking again. satoru talks more to himself than to you, his tone flat and inquisitive. “considering the girth, your elasticity is… impressive.”

it’s crude how blunt he is with his words. and you realize after a moment that what he said is barely praise. it’s not meant to be a compliment. and it’s super messed up.

not because of the implications of you, a human, having intimate relations with a hunk of metal — but because to him every punishing and measured thrust, every gasp of yours, every dribble of slick coating his fake, metal cock is just satoru collecting data.

but for you — it has to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

is it supposed to feel this good, though?

that thought alone makes your stomach turn and curl with shame — because it shouldn’t. not with him. not like this. he’s not even real. he’s a machine — a supposedly soulless one.

the man(?) continues to study you like you’re an erotic specimen — some rat caught in a lab, a firm grip on your waist as he easily pulls you off and back onto his length like a rag doll. his unbelievably blue eyes flicker between your aching, swollen cunt and the arch of your back. you feel the weight of his piercing gaze — cold and curious.

but what is worse, truly, is the way he casually asks you questions mid thrust, his voice smooth like he’s talking about the weather — like you’re not currently choking on your own moans and drooling like you lost all control over your functions.

“do you feel that in your lower abdomen?” he asks innocently as his hips snap harder into yours, making you jolt. “is the pressure more intense when i angle deeper?”

you don’t understand — why does this type of human connection intrigue him? where had he even learned all of this? surfing the internet and stumbling across porn?

you hiccup some garbled nonsense back at him and satoru blinks twice at your lack of response. you spasm around him again, soaking him and your bedding as you make a mess, trying so pathetically hard to milk him dry.

“oh?” satoru huffs out close to a laugh, something equally condescending and pitying as he comes to a realization. “that’s not going to work on me, i’m afraid. i don’t produce semen.”

and for some reason, you feel a pang of disappointment at that.

as if your body — despite knowing better — has been waiting for it. craving his seed and eager to receive it, aching for the warm and gooey flood of release, for the act to be completed the way your biology demands.

the way it’s supposed to.

you forgot momentarily that he can register all of the sensations, the artificial penis connected to his receptors. you whine pathetically — right before another rough thrust knocks the breath from your lungs.

“though… your cervix seems desperate for it. how fascinating.”

he’s watching everything a little more closely now — how you twitch, how you shiver, how your thighs tremble under him. and when you start getting squirmy, your hips making a poor attempt to try and jerk away or press back harder (he can’t quite understand why you can’t decide) — he tilts his head to the side, recognizing the signs with eerie calm.

“you’re going to cum,” he notes factually. “the spasms in your pelvic floor indicate it. as well as your increased writhing. they are consistent with all previous observations such as excessive wetness—”

“w-wai— hnngh— c-can’t—!” you manage to squeak out, interrupting him.

but satoru cuts in without missing a beat. “incorrect. you can take it. you were made to.” a pause. then, “this is what you were born for.”

you’re not even trying to listen anymore as he prattles on. all that you have left in you is a babbled sob muffled by the sheets.

you’re limp, wrecked, weak — and all because this non human thing fucks you like it - he - owns you. driving into you again and again like you’re his research project he’s determined to figure out — you’re helpless.

and he isn’t even a real man.

that’s what makes it even worse.

[velvet-milk]

♡. ⤷ dick grayson just loves getting you pregnant.

──── ❛❛i just know your pull-out game is trash. what are you trying to do—start a soccer team or somethin'?❞ jason said with a funny face, watching dick’s oldest kid stuff his face with the tiny sandwiches alfred had made for the birthday party. the little dude looked just like his old man, minus the ridiculous robin outfit and the sad puppy eyes only an orphan could pull off. the younger girl beside him, dick's middle child, was going at the muffins just as aggressively, like the two of them were racing to see who could eat more.

dick didn't even look up from his drink, gently bouncing his youngest on one arm, chubby-cheeked, wide-eyed, and clinging to his shirt like a sleepy little koala. "if you had a wife as hot as mine, you'd be popping out kids too, buddy."

they both turned to look at you.

you looked effortlessly beautiful in your sundress, arranging the table with sweet treats and the homemade cake you’d baked with steph for your son. you were glowing, smiling softly to yourself as you nudged cupcakes into place, strands of hair slipping down your shoulders in that way that always made dick a little bit stupid in the head.

jason looked at him and smirked.

"okay, fair point. If i had that, i'd never pull out either."

dick shot him a glare sharp enough to kill.

"watch it."

"relax, i'm just admiring. like art in a museum. look, don't touch."

the baby in dick's arms let out a soft coo, then promptly sneezed in his face. jason burst out laughing, almost choking on his beer. dick wiped his face with a napkin, sighing. the living room was steadily filling up, your apartment buzzing with the kind of energy only a gathering of vigilantes and sugar-fueled kids could create. laughter bounced off the walls, footsteps thudded across the floor, and someone had already knocked over a bowl of popcorn.

by the time everyone had arrived, you stood near the center of the room, glancing around at the crowd with a shy smile. tim and damian were surprisingly civil, caught up in a low-stakes debate over something. bruce stood nearby, hands behind his back, taking in the decorations with his signature unreadable expression. barbara and cass sat on the edge of the couch, quietly demolishing cupcakes. wally was crouched on the floor, pretending to lose a race to your son, who was giggling maniacally.

you turned toward the kitchen doorway.

"come here, honey."

dick stood from the armchair, still gently cradling your baby girl, and crossed the room to your side. you laced your fingers with his free hand, your other hand brushing nervously over the front of your sundress.

once you had everyone's attention, you cleared your throat.

"so, guys, since everyone’s here..." you looked at dick, who gave you a reassuring nod. "we have an announcement."

across the room, wally and jason exchanged a look, like they already knew what was coming.

"we're pregnant!" you said brightly, your smile wide and beaming. steph let out an excited squeal and rushed forward to hug you tightly, practically bouncing on her feet.

"oh my god, again? you're glowing, this is so perfect!"

meanwhile, wally and jason turned to stare at dick like he'd just revealed he was a time traveler. jason didn't miss a beat.

"bro. do you have a breeding kink or somethin'? four kids? four? what the actual fuck?"

tim, without looking up, reached out and casually covered richard jr's ears. barbara did the same for your daughter on the couch, both of them sighing in sync.

dick blinked, deadpan.

"you know, some people just really enjoy fatherhood."

"you definitely enjoy something."

wally snorted. "this man's building his own titans roster at home."

dick just grinned, kissed the top of your head, and rocked the baby gently in his arm.

[snowluvvie]

"I, uh... posted a pic of you. On my MySpace." Rodrick mumbled, like maybe you wouldn't hear it if he said it quiet enough. He sat in front of his computer on his beat-up desk chair, the glow illuminating his face. You gave him a little grin, crossing the room to stand over his shoulder.

"Lemme see." You demanded, resting your hand affectionately on the top of his head. He looked up at you with a little smile and those eyes ringed with eyeliner, before returning his eyes to the screen to click around a few times.

Your eyes widened in interest when he pulled up the post. It was extremely plain, he "didn't have time" for his blog, though you knew he was kinda terrified what people thought of it, and just didn't want anyone to think he was trying. You knew he definitely was, though, you'd seen the focused way his teeth tugged at his bottom lip when his fingers flew across the keyboard.

It was just a picture of you, one you recognized being from last weekend when you'd been getting ready to go out at his house. You were set up in the bathroom, makeup cluttering every inch of the smooth white countertop and the back of the toilet, too. Hair pulled back so it was out of your way, face intently focused as you put your lashes on. It was a cute pic, even if you weren't all the way ready, you let it slide. You could even see a little sliver of Rodrick in the pic, reflected in the mirror when he'd leaned against the doorframe to take it. You remember turning around and waving him off with a laugh, but he sat with you in the bathroom while you finished your makeup, watching you from the edge of the tub with admiring eyes.

Your eyes caught on the title of the post, which just read "glitter glue drinker" and that made you laugh loudly. A couple of his friends comments only made it worse, one of them reading: "she lookz like it." Rodrick's face was lit up with glee as he watched you laugh, effectively giving your stamp of approval, and he was visibly relieved.

"That's cute." You offered him, leaning down over his shoulder to kiss his cheek, though he kept you there long enough to snag a longer kiss on the lips, and he tasted like a tootsie roll.

[candytoothed]

“do you think we’re soulmates?”

“i don’t believe in that shit.” katsuki’s hand tangles in your messy hair sprawled against the pillow he fought you over and ultimately gave to you with a small roll of his eyes.

you huff against his chest, frowning at his words. “you don’t think we were meant to be?”

“hell no.” he grins almost a little mockingly

“why not..?” you mutter, thankful your face is out of his sight because your disappointed expression is really quite laughable.

it’s silent for a long moment, and in the dark room, you assume he fell asleep. you sigh, cautiously readjusting your position to be more comfortable as you shut your eyes, ready to sleep.

that is until his hand drops from your hair onto your arm, rubbing small circles. “i don’t think i’m meant to be with anyone.” he whispers, staring up at his ceiling, still covered in glow in the dark stars from when he was a kid. “i think i just got lucky.”

you keep your eyes closed, half asleep as you respond immediately, “well, i don’t believe in luck. everything happens for a reason, suki.”

“that’s your prerogative, i guess.” he hums, his motions slowing down against your arm, resting there lazily.

“mm,” you wrap your arms around his torso, your cheek smushing against his chest.

another long moment passes, and katsuki’s still staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“you asleep?” he murmurs, careful not to wake you if you are.

“no, baby.”

he nods to himself, leaning down to plant a kiss on your head. “okay. i love you. thank you.” he whispers before resting back on his bed and shutting his eyes.

“thank you for what?” you reply, smiling softly at his affection.

he shrugs lightly before sleep takes over him, his arms engulfed around you without another word.

[odorefal]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂 hated himself every time he ended up arguing with you.

hell, even if it’s unintentional, he couldn’t bear to see you isolate yourself instead of communicating, knowing it was when you just want to be alone. but the awful thoughts in your head (like he had another woman) making him wish he could take them all out of your mind.

even though you told him to go away, and used his full name, nanami wouldn’t stop. he’d hold you and reassured you with kind, soothing words.

and if you did, he’d just hold onto you and speak soothingly to calm you down. he brought you to the bed and made sure you both got cozy. he leaned against the headboard while you were in his lap.

he’d wipe away the tears on your face and the ones gathering in your eyes. his other hand would softly brush your cheek, as he apologized for the hurtful words he didn’t intend.

he’d take your knuckle and kiss the marriage ring on your index finger. your heart fluttered, even though you couldn't stand him. kissing every spot on it, he would later rest your hand on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat, making sure you know he’s yours; all while looking at you with affection as his hand gently caressed your hair.

if he successfully comforts you, he won’t let you go, not even to use the bathroom. he’s refuse to sleep by himself, worried you might escape. he’d sleep on the couch, the bathtub, or even the cabinet, but for you? don’t expect too much.

and when you wake up tomorrow, you would notice a breakfast is already prepared beside the coffee table, with a little note “i’m sorry for yesterday’s occurrence, my love. i've to go to work, but i already kissed your forehead beforehand.”

you found yourself smiling widely at the sight.

[gojoest]

f!reader, she/her pronouns used, you work in the office’s sales and investment department, managing clients and closing deals, your VIP client gojo satoru ofc is down bad for you

“is he here again?” one of your coworkers whispers, eyeing the white haired man lounging in the waiting area.

“yeah”, the other replies with a nod. “he must be loaded. i mean, look at him — he’s buying land or property every other day”

“should we go see what he’s here for this time?”

a third chimes in, lowering her voice. “i already tried, but he said he’s waiting for her”

“oh, of course”, the first two say in unison, rolling their eyes. “he never wants to work with anyone else but her”

the man sitting across from them is gojo satoru — the head of the infamous and powerful gojo clan and, without question, one of the richest men in japan. he first walked into the office a month ago for a routine estate deal, but then… he saw you. since then, he’s been coming back almost daily — buying land, investing in companies, expanding his already ridiculous portfolio. but it’s never really about business, he doesn’t care about doubling or tripling his assets — every deal, every investment, it’s just an excuse to see you.

the office chatter cuts off the moment you step out of the meeting room, walking alongside a new client you had just finished discussing terms with.

“it was a pleasure meeting you” — the man says warmly, taking your offered hand but instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “i would be delighted to work with you”

you clear your throat, not exactly pleased with his actions, and retract your hand quickly while still maintaining a polite and professional smile as you nod. “likewise”

“may i have your number? just in case any details come up?”

“of course” you reply, and the two of you exchange business cards.

as the client exits, your attention shifts to a sharp tapping sound coming from the waiting area. there he is — gojo satoru — legs crossed, one foot thudding impatiently against the floor while the other on top swings, arms folded tightly across his chest, his usual carefree demeanor nowhere to be seen. he’s clearly not pleased.

another man had just tried his luck with you, just like he once did. and chances are, just like him, that man will be back.

“i would be delighted to work with you” — satoru mutters under his breath, mimicking the client’s voice with exaggeratedly small voice. “yeah, right. my ass”

you can’t help but chuckle and walk over to him. “hello, mr. gojo”

he huffs, still pissed at the way that man kissed your hand. offering no greeting in return and no teasing grin as he usually does, he jumps straight to the point with a grumbled confession.

“you know, i’m a very jealous man”, he pauses, eyes still locked on the door your client just walked out of, before he continues — “i already don’t like the idea of that man calling or texting you”

you raise a brow as you take a seat beside him. “it’s business related”, you reply, though you’re not sure why you’re even giving him an explanation, let alone trying to calm him down.

“yeah? well, so was mine the first time, but look how that turned out”

you roll your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “you mean you buying half the city just to keep showing up here?”

“exactly” he leans back, spreading his arms along the top of the couch like he owns the entire building — which, at this point, wouldn’t surprise you. “you’re a dangerous woman. all professional and focused until suddenly i’m out here investing in organic rice farms just for a reason to see you”

you laugh. “is that why you wanted to meet me today?”

he shrugs. “who knows? maybe i suddenly care a lot about sustainable agriculture”

“you’re ridiculous”, you snort.

“and you’re unreal”, his tone a bit more teasing now. “i swear you could get on my nerves every day and i’d still thank the universe for putting you in my life”

“huh?” you blink.

“i’m serious”, he says, voice dropping low, eyes locked on yours. “you driving me crazy, making me jealous, acting like this is just business — you could keep doing that for the rest of my life. because the most beautiful woman on earth getting on my nerves? that’s an honor.” he pauses for half a second, then leans in, “but i need to make you mine — officially”

“what are you—“

before you can finish, he cuts you off. “we can go pick a ring right now” he says casually like he’s offering to go grab some coffee. “i’ve already got five jewelers on speed dial. we’ll go full sparkle because you deserve nothing less”

you just stare at him in disbelief, torn between laughing and checking to see if he’s actually joking.

“what?” he grins. “don’t look so shocked. i told you from the start that i don’t do things halfway, especially not when it comes to you”

you’re not oblivious, of course. you’ve known for a while now that gojo satoru has a thing for you. the way he always asks for you specifically, the over-the-top deals, the charming smiles paired with suspiciously timed visits — it is beyond obvious. though part of you always thought it was just a tiny, harmless crush. but now he’s suddenly talking about rings like you’ve already been dating for years and it’s the most natural progression.

okay, maybe, just maybe, calling it a tiny crush doesn’t really hold up when the man is out here casually buying half the city just for an excuse to see you.

you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “you know, maybe before we start ring shopping we should try lunch first”

“lunch, huh?” satoru tilts his head, pretending to think.

you nod. “yeah. you know — small steps! a conversation that isn’t about land acquisitions or surprise proposals”

he leans in, his voice smug and sweet all at once. “would you freak out if i told you i already bought the ring?”

“no, you didn’t”

“yes, i did”, he says, completely unfazed. “it’s in my pocket”

[theosbaby]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

stepbro!draco fucking you with your parents in the next room

NSFW content ahead, +18

the filthy sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the bathroom as draco pounds your tight little hole from behind, his tall frame pinning you against the sink while he watches you intently through the mirror, your pretty bambi eyes looking right back at him.

"shh, love," he coos, fingers gripping your hair tighter as he yanks your head back, lips pressing against your pulse point. "you gotta be quiet f'me, yeah?"

your parents are home at this moment, sitting in the living room within a few feet, so the chances of getting caught are high, and draco can't risk it. if his father finds him fucking you —his wife's innocent and polite daughter, he'll definitely kill him. that fact hasn't stopped either of you though, the thrill of getting caught just making the two of you hornier, his cock throbbing inside your warm cunt as you coat him in your arousal.

you can barely hold back your pretty moans as you feel the delicious drag of his fat cockhead across your inner walls, his dick hitting all the right spots inside you so easily.

"i— i can't..." you stutter between little whimpers, cheeks flushed while you arch your back, hips moving backwards to meet his thrusts.

a slow smirk spreads across draco's face at your response, fingers trailing from your hair down to your neck, roughly pressing his palm against the front of your throat as he slams forcefully against you.

"you can't, huh?" he'd taunt, his other hand gripping your hip to keep you still. "can't stay fucking quiet?"

a loud, strangled moan leaves your throat despite your efforts not to make a sound, your pussy tingling too nicely for you to be able to hold them back. you shake your head in response, lips parting as your gasp for air.

"feels too good," you whimper, eyes rolling back.

your noises would force him to reach out and cover your mouth, his palm muffling every pretty sound you make while he keeps thrusting in and out of your quivering cunt. you can feel yourself clenching tighter around him as you near the edge, the coil in your belly tightening.

"honey, is everything okay?" your mother's voice asks from the other side of the door suddenly, while she knocks softly. you both freeze for a second, but then draco starts pounding into you again. "you've been there for a while."

your brows knit together in a frown, pretty face scrunched in pleasure as you reach up to tug his hand away from your mouth, pulling it downwards to encourage him to rub your little clit. you have to be quick.

"yes, mum, i'll be right out," you answer, and your voice is clearly breathy and agitated.

you pray that your mother doesn't notice.

more.

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — Every damn morning like clockwork, 5:45 AM. Tiny fingers pry one of Sukuna’s eyelids open, a small face hovering inches from his own. Her hair still wild from sleep, cheeks flushed with excitement, "Papa! Wake up!" Small hands nudging him while clutching her pink brush and collection of scrunchies against her pjs, "Hair time!"

Sukuna clicked his tongue, a massive hand engulfing her tiny face as he gently pushed her back, "Go back to bed, brat."

"Nooooo!" She whined, pushing his hand off her face and climbing onto his broad back, "You promised!"

With a displeased groan, he rolls over, causing her to slide off his back with a delighted squeal. Sitting up while running a hand through his own disheveled hair, he looks at the brat he helped create with a scowl, "Gimme that," he grumbles, snatching the brush from her.

She scrambles into his lap, her small back pressed against his chest, practically vibrating with excitement. Sukuna couldn’t relate, it was early… too early, like always. He looks down at the top of her head and mutters under his breath, "She was supposed to be a boy..."

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you trace your fingers over his the tattoos that decorate his warm arm, "You say that every morning," you tease him softly.

"Because it's true every morning," he fires back, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. Awkwardly, he begins working through her tangles, his calloused hands- hands that at times come home bloody, now trying to be gentle with his daughter's delicate scalp.

"Ooww! Papa!!! You're pulling!"

"Stay still then..." he grunts, trying again with more care, "Your hair's a damn mess." As he brushes through her strands, he couldn't help but think how absurd this was- he was Sukuna Ryomen, the fucking guy who’s got everyone pissing their pants in fear… The guy who was born out of bloodshed, who's never had a single care for the lives he's taken. How the hell did he end up with a little girl, a wife, and a home? … His eyes softened as they narrowed, how the hell did he find himself fearing for this tiny things future- the day she's old enough to be married off to a man like him…?

He’s grown soft…

But it doesn't mean he won't rip out the throat of any man who dares lay a finger on her...

You watch, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of Sukuna struggling, being utterly defeated by a five year old's bedhead, "Want me to take over-"

"No!" both father and daughter respond in unison, making you throw your hands up in surrender before they decide to kick you out of bed.

"I got this," Sukuna insists, his fingers, more accustomed to handling weapons and violence than hair accessories, fumbling with the thin strands. His brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to separate her hair into sections. How the fuck was he supposed to make three even parts again?

Your daughter looks over at you, wholesome pride in her eyes. This was their thing- this morning struggle that somehow means everything to both of them. Even if Sukuna doesn't admit it, he loves being the protective girl dad... enjoys feeling needed and special in this way.

You lean against his bare shoulder as you watch him separate her hair into three uneven sections, trying to remember how braiding works. The girl in his lap patiently waits with the biggest smile, offering encouraging words as if she's the adult coaching the child.

"Papa! Papa! Like this! Over not under, remember? You did it yesterday!"

"Yesterday I fucked it up too." he mumbles, starting over for a third time.

When he finally manages something resembling a braid, secured with her favorite sparkly leopard scrunchie, she hops off his lap to examine his work in the bathroom mirror. You take the opportunity to press a kiss to Sukuna’s shoulder, then his neck, then the corner of his mouth, "Looks like you're getting better~."

"Don't start what you can't finish," he warns, his voice dropping lower as he turns to catch your lips properly. His hand coming up to squeeze your cheek possessively.

Your daughter returns before you could respond, beaming despite the crooked, messy braid that's already coming undone at the bottom, "Perect! Thank you, Papa!"

Sukuna breaks away from you, looking down at her, at this tiny little being who fears nothing about him... not his size, not his tattoos, not how he puts the fear of god in her preschool teacher. She sees only her papa, the man who makes her burnt pancakes and braids her hair poorly.

The man who protects you- her mother, and would do anything for her. The man who would secretly die for her…

Placing his hand on the top of her head, he gives it a little ruffle, "Yeah kid... perfect."

Prt 3. ˚₊‧꒰ა. 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[anglbunny]

RIDE

♡. choso letting you ride his fat cock, smut mdni, size difference, riding

“Are you sure?” he asks again, voice low, nervous, even as he lies back with his hands braced behind him, shirt half off and hair messy from how often he’s run his fingers through it tonight. “We can stop. I mean it.”

You straddle him anyway—naked, breath shaky, thighs trembling around his waist. Your hands press against his chest like you’re trying to steady yourself. Or maybe stop yourself from sliding down onto what’s… very clearly going to be a problem.

Because Choso’s huge.

Like, really, actually terrifyingly big. Thick. Heavy. Flushed tip already smearing against your lower stomach just from how it sits.

You glance down between your bodies. Then back up at him. “Holy shit,” you breathe. “That’s not… gonna fit.”

Choso groans, head falling back. “Please don’t say that,” he begs, voice wrecked. “I’m trying to be.. trying not to lose my control.”

You line yourself up anyway—slowly, carefully, shaking. He grips your waist. Not hard. Just enough to keep you steady. “Easy, baby,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin. “Take your time. Just the tip first.”

Just the tip burns. Splits you open in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

Choso moans. “F–fuck, you’re tight. You okay?”

You nod—but tears prick your eyes. Your hands scramble for his shoulders, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “I–it’s so big…”

“I know, I know,” he pants, brushing a thumb along your hip. “You’re doing so good. You’re so good for me, sweetheart. Just go slow, yeah?”

You sink a little deeper—inch by inch—and his jaw locks. The stretch is unbearable. He feels like he’s in your stomach. You swear you can feel his heartbeat from inside.

“I–I can’t—” “You can,” Choso says, firm now, eyes locked on you with a mix of worship and desperation. “You’re taking me so well. You were made for this.”

He groans when your hips drop lower. You’re not even all the way down yet. His hands are gripping the sheets now like if he moves he’ll break you in half.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel like heaven. You’re gonna ruin me.”

You finally bottom out—and freeze. Both of you are shaking. Your legs feel weak. You’re completely full. Stuffed to the brim.

Choso whimpers.

“You okay?” he whispers, hands stroking your thighs, your waist, your back—trying to soothe the ache. “Do you want me to move? Or—”

You roll your hips just a little, testing the friction, and Choso gasps.

“Holy—baby, don’t do that, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You do it again. And suddenly it’s too good to stop. The pain is still there, but it’s pulsing, rhythmic, drowned beneath the stretch and the friction and Choso’s voice in your ear telling you you’re perfect, that you’re his, that no one will ever fuck you like this again.

“I’m never letting you go,” he pants, arms wrapping around you, holding you tight as you start to bounce—slowly, shakily, but desperate. “You were made to ride me.”

You cry out his name, and Choso loses it—thrusting up hard just once, uncontrollably, and you both see stars.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: i want him to impregnate me

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[honeyhaeya]

kissing my best friend (SEVENTEEN reaction)

tags / genre: seventeen reactions, seventeen smut, best friend au, seventeen x reader, seventeen headcanons, reader insert, smut warning, romance, best friend-to-lovers warnings: explicit sexual content (smut, NSFW), suggestive and mature themes, strong language, reader is implied to have a close friendship with the members, boundary-blurring dynamics (best friend-to-lovers trope) - minors should know not to interact a/n: it suddenly just popped into my head so im making a headcanon cause why not? (escalates rq)

S.Coups (Seungcheol) he stares at you in disbelief after you press your lips to his, his hand frozen mid-air. "what the hell was that for?" he asks, his tone low, but his eyes darken the longer he stares at your lips. when you awkwardly laugh and try to brush it off, he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. “you can’t just kiss me like that and pretend it’s nothing,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your lips before he kisses you back, harder this time.

the next thing you knew is that you're laid down completely on his bed his cock slamming and rutting right in your cunt, flesh slapping and lips messily tangled with each other. love bites are already all over your neck. with every desperate seconds bite, your moans fill the air with seungcheol swallowing every sweet melody you give.

Jeonghan he doesn’t even flinch when you kiss him—if anything, he lets out a soft hum, as if he’s been expecting it all along. "are we still calling this ‘best friends’ now?" he whispers, his fingers brushing against your jaw. when you nervously step back, his hand catches your waist, pulling you flush against him. "don’t go all shy now. you started this," he teases, his lips grazing your neck as his other hand cups your face for another kiss.

it's not all cute until jeonghan's hands are all over you—it's like he's searching for something in your body when in reality, it felt like he's memorizing your figure all completely. who knew one kiss would end up with a night full of moans and whines of overstimulations as he eats you up.

Joshua "oh," he breathes when your lips leave his, his cheeks flushed pink. at first, he tries to laugh it off, brushing his hand through his hair awkwardly. "so, um… do best friends just… do that now?" but when you avoid his gaze, muttering something about it being a joke, he grabs your chin gently, tilting your face back to his. "you think i’m letting you get away with that?" he asks softly before closing the distance again, this time with more intent.

and that's when you find yourself completely surrendering beneath him, whimpering soft "please" and "harder" that makes him lose completely out of control. joshua has it thrusting in you all night until you pass out. who knew someone as gentle as him was the exact opposite at night? now you did.

Junhui when your lips meet his, jun blinks a few times, his mind processing what just happened. but before you can even pull away completely, he hooks an arm around your waist, smirking. "well, that’s new," he says, leaning closer until his lips hover just over yours. "so… what are we doing about it?" his voice is low and teasing as his hands trail up your sides. "because if this is your way of confessing, i’m definitely not complaining."

you did confess. who wouldn't? it's wen junhui we're talking about here. your goofy yet the most charming best friend you can ever ask for. but did you really see him as just a friend? you already planned your future in your head with him, having kids and all—except for the fact that those dreams are coming to reality too quickly. you have him all over you, moaning loudly as you clench onto the fabric of the bed as he fucks you for the fourth time. these are his unspoken feelings for you in the past few years.

Hoshi (Soonyoung) soonyoung’s eyes widen when you kiss him, and he pulls back with a loud, "wait, WHAT?!" but the moment he sees your flushed face and nervous laugh, his shock turns into a mischievous grin. "oh, so this is what we’re doing now?" he teases, stepping closer until you’re backed against the wall. “you can’t just drop a kiss on me and expect me to act normal,” he says, his voice dropping as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours again, slower this time.

everything with hoshi has always been so gentle, almost delicate—but you never expected the other side of him to be this wild, this untamed when it came to sex. the way he slams into you, his hard thrusts relentless as his balls smack against your soaked cunt, leaves you breathless. it’s nothing like the guy you thought you knew. you can’t tell if he’s proving a point, showing you that he really is a tiger, or if this is simply who he is when he lets go. either way, you’re completely consumed, caught between the intensity of his movements and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Wonwoo wonwoo freezes when your lips meet his, his book slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a quiet thud. “what was that?” he asks, his voice calm but his expression unreadable. when you stammer out an apology, he shakes his head, taking a step closer. "don’t apologize," he says, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. "if anything, i should be the one apologizing." before you can ask what he means, his lips are on yours again, deeper and hungrier.

making out in the library is a classic iconic. but having sex? that's a whole different level we're talking about. wonwoo has to shut you up with his kisses so you'd stay quiet for you two to not get caught. he has his mouth onto yours while he snaps his hips with yours, his cock twitching with how your gummy walls clench around him, making it difficult for him to thrust continuously. he pulls his cock out before you can cum and covers your mouth with his palm on your mouth, preventing you from whimpering.

Woozi (Jihoon) "what the hell are you doing?" jihoon blurts out the second your lips leave his, his cheeks a deep shade of red. but when you laugh nervously and try to brush it off as a joke, he grabs your wrist, his eyes locking with yours. "you think you can just kiss me and get away with it?" he mutters, his voice low. before you can respond, he pulls you closer, his lips crashing into yours with a mix of frustration and unspoken desire.

and that's how you ended up sitting on his lap as you move yourself onto him, grinding your hips back and forth to his cock, making you say his name like it's a prayer. woozi was leaving love bites all over your neck as you work so hard to meet the edge of bliss. "that's it, baby," is what he would whisper if he had to encourage you to keep going. he'd overstimulate you if he wanted to.

Minghao (The8) minghao raises an eyebrow as you pull away, his gaze unreadable. “so… that’s how it is now?” he asks, his voice calm but his smirk giving away his amusement. when you nervously try to laugh it off, he steps closer, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “if you’re going to kiss me, do it properly next time,” he whispers before leaning in, his lips meeting yours again, slower and more deliberate this time, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

oh, the slow yet lingering pleasure. minghao is as gentle as a feather as his lips trail down to your stomach. the way he worked on his tongue as he licked your every part as if he was painting something on your body felt surreal. not until he has you quivering on his bed as he eats out your cunt until you overstimulate. he doesn't let go until you squirt. and that's when you'll be showered with lots of compliments. with one final consent, he'll spoon into you really slow at first and will gradually increase as he edges you to the ends of pleasure.

Mingyu mingyu freezes the second your lips touch his, his face heating up instantly. "wait—what just happened?" he stammers, his hands hovering awkwardly near your shoulders. but when you mumble something about it being a trend, his confused expression shifts into something more serious. "so you kissed me for a trend?" he asks, his voice low. before you can explain, he steps closer, his large hands cupping your face as he leans in. “let me show you how i really feel about that,” he murmurs before kissing you again.

mingyu is the type to lose all control the moment you grind against him, a switch flipping as years of friendship dissolve into something raw and unrestrained. he pins you down, your chest pressed into the mattress while he thrusts his cock deep into your cunt, his grip on your hips firm and possessive. “m-mingyu,” you whimper, your voice shaky as he drives into you harder, his rhythm erratic yet desperate. his groans mix with your breathless gasps, the sounds of skin against skin echoing in the room. it’s messy, heated, and impossibly intimate—something neither of you can take back.

DK (Seokmin) seokmin blinks rapidly when you kiss him, his face immediately turning red. "uh… what just happened?" he asks, laughing nervously. but when you try to brush it off, he grabs your arm gently, his expression unusually serious. "don’t joke about stuff like that," he says softly before leaning in, his lips capturing yours again. his usual playful demeanor fades as his kisses grow deeper, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulls you closer.

his playful nature melts away as his lips move in sync with yours, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. when you break the kiss to gasp for air, dk takes the opportunity to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking gently, leaving faint marks that make your stomach flutter. before you know it, he has you pinned beneath him, his warm hands gripping your hips as he thrusts into you, a sweet mixture of desperation and restraint. he whispers soft apologies every time his pace becomes rough, but the way you’re calling out his name only drives him to lose himself completely in you.

Seungkwan "YAH! what was that?!" seungkwan yells, his face bright red as he stares at you in shock. but when you laugh and tell him it’s just a trend, he narrows his eyes. "a trend?! you’re playing with my feelings for a trend?" before you can respond, he grabs your hand, pulling you into his lap. “you better mean it,” he mutters, his lips brushing against yours again, slower this time as his hands settle on your hips.

seungkwan’s kisses are as passionate as his personality, his lips firm and eager as he devours you, making you dizzy. he’s not holding back now, his hands gripping your waist as he presses you flush against him, your back arching under his touch. "you started this, don’t back out now," he murmurs, his voice thick with want. the next thing you know, you’re on his couch, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he takes his time thrusting his cock into you at a rhythm that has you moaning uncontrollably. his mouth is everywhere, kissing and sucking on your skin as if to make you his, all while muttering praises about how beautiful you look when you fall apart for him.

Vernon vernon blinks at you, his expression blank as he processes what just happened. "uh… what’s going on?" he asks, his tone casual but his ears noticeably red. when you laugh nervously, he tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips. "was that supposed to be a joke?" he asks, stepping closer. when you stammer out an excuse, he smirks softly. “you’re terrible at jokes,” he murmurs before kissing you again, his hands sliding to your waist.

he’s patient, his hands ghosting over your body, taking in every sound you make, a small smirk tugging at his lips when he hears you whine for more. "you’re cute when you’re needy," he mutters, his voice low and teasing. but when he finally has you naked beneath him, the teasing is gone. vernon’s thrusts are deep and slow, with his cock slipping out on purpose, his hands gripping your hips as he watches every expression you make. his lips find yours again, swallowing your moans as he works you to the edge, his soft grunts mixing with your cries in the most intimate rhythm.

Dino chan’s eyes widen when you kiss him, his body going completely still. "are you serious right now?" he asks, his voice a mix of disbelief and something else you can’t quite place. when you shrug and try to laugh it off, he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. "you think this is funny?" he mutters, his lips inches from yours. before you can respond, he closes the gap, his kisses rough and desperate as his hands slide up your sides.

he’s been waiting for this, and now that he has you, he’s not going to let the moment slip away. "you’re mine now," he growls against your lips, his voice filled with uncharacteristic dominance that sends shivers down your spine. before you know it, he’s taken full control, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounds his cock into you relentlessly. he doesn’t care about being gentle—he just wants you to feel how much he’s been holding back. his name spills from your lips like a chant, and he revels in the sound, his lips finding yours once again as he drives you both to the peak of pleasure.

[satoblue]

“HOME SMELLS LIKE YOU” — gojo satoru

before your pregnancy, you couldn’t stand the stench of your husband’s sweat. but now that you’re six months pregnant and satoru’s away — you can’t help but become obsessed with it. | wc: 2.7k

MDNI, f!reader, pregnancy pervert satoru (?), established relationship (married), pregnancy, no p in v but f!receiving oral, pet names, lots and lots of banter, you like to smell his hairy sweaty pits, you also sniff his socks bc you miss him, satoru is stinky, he is so gross ugh (he’s a BOY), based on this talk post of mine. | dividers made by me (it’s the gojo head from the japanese gojo tag on twt/X)

You had always hated the smell of Satoru’s socks.

Loathed it — in fact.

The way they’d be flung around your home like stink bombs the second he walked through the door — once even in the kitchen — used to make your blood boil.

His bag would land on the floor with a thud, announcing his presence. His jacket would fall next to the coat rack (never on it). And the socks? Oh, the socks would make an unwelcome appearance soon enough.

“Gojo Satoru!” You would hiss his full name, your hands on your hips. “I am not picking those up!”

To which he’d reply — smug grin intact — “But you do such a good job at it, babe.”

He’ll throw a sweaty arm around your shoulder, yanking you into a hug — all six sweaty, smug feet of him — and rub his chin into your shoulder like a big dumb cat. You’d squirm and gag — slap at his back.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Disgustingly hot, right?” He’d grin, blowing a puff of hot air in your ear for good measure, making you shudder.

“Admit it, you like me filthy.”

The only time you ever tolerated his scent was when he was freshly showered and dripping in cologne. You liked him crisp — clean and citrusy, the husband who put forth his best effort for date nights and wined and dined you in rooftop restaurants.

Not the one who smelled like residual blood, sweat, and testosterone.

But now?

Well…

Now you were six months pregnant and found yourself nuzzling into his hairy armpit while he scrolled on his phone after a jog.

His shirt was still damp, his underarm was a literal swamp, and you... you had your nose pressed against it like it was the most comforting place on earth. And you didn’t even care. In fact, you inhaled — deeply. And at first, you just didn’t mind his sweaty hugs. You blamed fatigue. Pregnancy was exhausting. You just didn’t have the energy to fight him off.

Then came the subtle shift. You weren’t making him pick up his socks anymore. You’d see them on the floor and step over them. Like some kind of feral animal marking territory — and you let it happen.

Then there was the kiss.

He’d gotten home from a particularly long day, clothes soaked through, and you’d leaned in. But not just that — you inhaled — like a woman starved for her husband’s musk.

“Mm.” You hummed against his shirt. “You smell like... you.”

Satoru blinked, surprised as he pulled back. “Is that… a compliment?”

You blinked and then squeaked something about hormones and waddled away, mortified but… not that much.

And now… here you are.

Alone and standing barefoot on the cool tiles of the laundry room. Your belly is rounding out one of his old, white high school t-shirts. And in your hand? One of his filthy, balled up socks. A crusty monstrosity from god knows which mission. It practically reeks of Satoru — salty, musky, and male.

You blink down at it.

God, this is a new low. Like — a type of thing Satoru would do type of low. You should throw it in the wash. You should burn it. But instead… you raise it to your nose and slowly and shamefully take a sniff.

When the notes hit your nose, you practically whimper like a pervert. Because damn it. Damn it — it smells like Satoru. Not just the top layer of man stink, but the part underneath — that warm, grounding scent you have now come to associate with comfort and home and sex and love and—

You are going insane.

He’s been gone for three days. Three! And you miss him so much. His voice and his jokes and the stupid little dances he does behind you while brushing his teeth. And the sock smells like him. Has that indescribable something your baby apparently adores.

“I am so weird,” you mutter aloud, laughing a little under your breath.

“I agree.”

You freeze, dropping the sock like it’s on fire.

No.

You turn slowly, cheeks going hot with mortification. And there he is.

Standing in the doorway — hair slightly windblown, uniform clinging to his tall frame. Blindfold still on was Gojo Satoru. Your husband. Six foot menace — with his infamous grin that made you absolutely weak in the knees.

“You’re… home early,” you swallow, works coming out weakly, unsure if you’re happy to see him at the moment considering you’ve just been caught in a… situation.

“Yup,” he pops the ‘p,’ stepping closer into the room. He peels his blindfold up with one hand and rakes his snowy, sweaty bangs back like usual, revealing his bright blue eyes, already twinkling with mirth.

“Was gonna surprise you. Bring you some yakisoba, rub your feet, make you cry with how thoughtful I am — real husband of the year stuff.”

You open your mouth, but he keeps going.

“Instead,” his grin grows wider. “I find my beautiful wife in the laundry room, looking like a snack and sniffing my sweaty sock like she can’t get enough.”

You want to die.

But your lip wobbles instead. Damn these stupid hormones.

“I— I wasn’t— it’s not—” You suck in a breath, voice cracking and face unbelievably hot in sheer embarrassment and humiliation. “You’ve been gone for days, and I miss you, and everything smells weird and right and you always smell like home now and I know it’s gross but I couldn’t help it—!”

Your voice breaks, eyes filling with tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not making any sense. But the silence is instant. And before the first droplet can even hit the floor — he’s there.

Satoru’s in front of you in less than a second — either teleporting or moving faster than physics allows — it doesn’t matter. You are suddenly in his arms, and he’s cradling you like you’re made of delicate glass.

“No, no, no, baby,” he murmurs gently into your hair. “Don’t cry. Shhh. It’s okay — I’m sorry. That was mean. You’re not weird. You’re not gross. You’re perfect — you’re so perfect.”

You hiccup into his chest.

“You’re sweaty,” you mumble.

Satoru chuckles, chin dipping and lips brushing your hairline. “You like that now, remember?”

You sniffle, nuzzling in despite yourself. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You pout adorably. “I should.”

“But you don’t.” He teases, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You love me. And you love my socks.”

“Stop talking.”

Satoru flashes you his classic sleazy, toothy grin paired with those half lidded eyes that make your tummy flip, sliding a large hand down to cup your belly.

“I’m just saying — you’re allowed to be weird. You’re allowed to like whatever you like. I think it’s cute. Also — kinda hot?”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re weird.”

“So is love.” He winks, blue eyes twinkling with innocence.

You groan and swat at his chest — but your hand stills there, breathing him in deeply.

And you don’t pull away. His scent is calming. Like home, safety — and your stupid, beautiful husband. Despite your earlier humiliation, your body relaxes completely against his.

“Do you really think I’m not gross?”

He leans back, tilting his head just enough to see your face, his hands holding your cheeks like they are the most precious thing in the world, eyes impossibly soft for you and the child in your womb.

“Hey, you’re growing a whole human being in there. You could roll around in my dirty laundry and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Your eyes well up again — but this time they’re happy tears.

“Stop saying stuff like that,” you whisper, lip wobbling and voice fragile. He always knows how to break you open and fix you back together in the same breath.

Satoru kisses the corners of your eyes where your salty tears pool. “Don’t cry. You break my heart when you cry.”

You exhale shakily, melting into him.

“I missed you,” you mumble.

“I missed you more.” He tilts his head, lips ghosting over yours. “Let me make it up to you.”

“In the laundry room?”

“Hot.”

You swat him, but your grip stays firm on his shirt.

“Okay, okay,” he grins. “I’ll behave.”

But he won’t. Not really.

Satoru’s hands start to drift. You bury your face in his neck, greedily breathing in sweat and coconut shampoo. Underneath it all is him — warm and just Satoru.

He shudders.

“Oh,” he gasps. “You are gone, huh?”

“I hate it,” you release a whiny moan, pressing kisses along his throat, and he swallows thickly — Adam’s apple bobbing. “I hate how good you smell. It’s like my body got possessed.”

And your husband laughs, something strained and rough, grip tightening around you as he tries to restrain himself from taking you like a primal animal. “Possessed by lust? I like that.”

“You’re not helping,” you breathe.

“I’m not trying to help.”

And then his hands are sliding lower — carefully — from your face, down the curve of your back — until both large, warm palms are cradling the underside of your belly.

“Shit,” he groans softly, more to himself than to you as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours. His thumbs stroke over the stretched cotton of his shirt, over where the baby kicks softly beneath your skin. “You’re… so beautiful like this.”

“Satoru…”

He looks up, eyes half lidded, pupils dilated and blue eyes dark. His face is so close to your face it makes your heart jump. Your cheeks heat once more under his stare, feeling a shiver run through you and your cunt throbs involuntarily — like you can’t control it. He hasn’t even fucked you and you can tell you’re already soaked.

“Every day,” he rasps. “I think I can’t love you more. And then you look like this — swollen with my baby, wrapped in my clothes, snorting my socks like some pervy little freak—”

You gasp, trying to smack him like a kitten but he catches your wrist easily, pecking your knuckles gently before smashing his lips roughly onto yours.

It’s a kiss of pure yearning in a way only the two of you have figured out. He kisses you like he’s been starving. Like three days away from you was three days too long. And it’s rushed — a mess of saliva combined with your whimpers and his growls as he tugs you even closer.

You gasp against his mouth.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

He huffs. “Is that why you’re grinding against me like that?”

And you are.

You let out a whimper as he shifts, guiding you onto the laundry counter like you weigh nothing at all. Then, Satoru buries his face into the slope of your neck, taking an absurd, dramatic inhale — and lets out an exaggerated groan. Like, obnoxiously.

“Mm. You smell good too. Sweet. Like baby powder.”

You want to laugh, but it catches in your throat when his hand slides beneath the oversized t-shirt you stole from him, caressing your bare skin until you shiver. His palm slides and finds your bare thigh, then under your swollen belly — then lower.

He pauses.

You’re absolutely soaked through your panties.

Satoru pulls back slightly to look at your face, raising his eyebrows. “Baby…”

“Don’t,” you whisper and he almost doesn’t catch it, your cheeks burning hot. “Don’t say it.”

He leans in, breath tickling your ear.

“You got this wet from sniffing my sock?”

You slap his shoulder, your voice a half laugh, half groan of embarrassment. “Shut up.”

But he just grins — filthy and boyish. The type that makes your heart skip a beat like a girl with a high school crush. Your breath stutters in your throat, hands fisting his shirt. “Satoru…”

“I missed you,” he grunts, voice raw. “So much it made me crazy.”

You squirm, impatient. “Satoru—”

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he whispers in a soothing coo. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod dumbly and feverishly, dazed. And it clearly does something to your husband, because he exhales, hard and ragged, like you just punched the air out of his lungs from simply agreeing so easily like that — so willingly.

Then his mouth is everywhere — trailing wet, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, the upper swell of your swollen breasts. Your body reacts, arching into him, a heat pooling between your thighs, the ache building with each hot touch.

And then he’s sinking lower. Satoru gets on his knees like it’s instinct — like worship — and presses his cheek to the inside of your thigh with a soft sigh.

“Hi, little troublemaker,” he speaks to the baby first, voice quiet but still cheeky. “Hope you’re not listening too closely, ‘cause Daddy’s about to be very inappropriate with Mommy.”

“Satoru!”, you scold, cheeks heating before you gasp, scandalized, as he starts lewdly sniffing the air around your clothed cunt. You try to shut your legs out of embarrassment but it’s no use against his strong grip keeping them wide open.

“You always smell this good when you miss me?” he murmurs, voice low and drunk.

You whimper, thighs twitching. “Don’t be gross.”

“You love it,” he smirks lazily, mouth brushing right against your clothed cunt. You’re soaked. He hasn’t even touched you properly and you’re already trembling.

He presses a gentle kiss over your panties, tongue just barely teasing through the soaked cotton and you gasp softly. Then he peels it to the side and groans at the sight of your sticky, messy hole.

“Oh, baby…”

His blue eyes go so dark with lust they’re nearly black from how dilated his pupils are, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs to hold you open for him.

“I forgot how pretty your pussy gets when you’re pregnant,” he groans, voice a little bit awed. “All puffy and wet for me. Fuck — can I taste you?”

You nod — your voice long gone — and then he’s on you. Tongue dragging a long, lazy stripe through your folds, savoring you. You cry out, head thrown back, fingers fisting in his hair. He moans against you — deep and guttural — and the vibrations shoot straight through your core making you clench and your eyes roll back.

“Satoru—” you whimper, thighs tightening around his shoulders, and he growls in approval, arms wrapping around your hips to pull you even closer. He devours you like he’s starving — like your cunt is the only thing that can keep him alive.

Satoru’s tongue flicks against your clit in steady, practiced circles, suckling softly, then harder — until your legs are shaking and you’re grinding against his mouth with zero shame, bump hitting his head repeatedly with every motion.

Satoru shifts his angle slightly, lips sealing over your clit again while two fingers slide inside you — slow, thick, filling you perfectly. You nearly scream.

“Oh my— fuck— Satoru—!”

“That’s it,” he coos, voice muffled by your pussy, “Just let go, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.”

Your hands are everywhere — grabbing at his hair, his shoulders, the counter edge — anything to keep yourself grounded as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. It’s overwhelming — the kind that leaves your whole body buzzing and toes curling.

You’re choking on a gasp, crying out his name, back arching, baby bump knocking against his forehead repeatedly and thighs locked around his head like a vice.

He doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation — only then easing his mouth away with final kisses to your clit and then the underside of your bump. Your panties are barely hanging on one leg, and your swollen belly rises and falls with every shaky breath you take.

Satoru wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing and cradling your face gently. He strokes your cheeks, brushes your hair back behind your ears, kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“You okay?” he whispers, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

You nod, still dazed. “Better than okay.”

His forehead presses to yours.

“I’ll give you a hundred foot rubs,” he promises. “A thousand. Just don’t ever cry because you missed me again. I’ll lose it.”

“You’re such a softie.”

“Only for you.”

“You’re still disgusting.”

He grins. “And you still love me.”

His hands return to your body like they belong there — palming your hips, your waist, your belly — like he can’t get enough of touching you. And you can’t get enough of the man who drives you crazy and pieces you back together with the same hands that leave his socks on the floor.

Because he’s home. He’s yours. And you love the way he smells.

Even his socks.

p.s — from that day on, satoru becomes more attentive. he starts leaving his worn shirts on your pillow, knowing it helps you sleep better. he even jokes about bottling his sweat as a perfume. you might just kill him.

[rafesangelita]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ p!link

“ah, fuck—” rafe hissed, his eyes flickering down to where your pretty manicured fingers stroked his cock. you were currently perched on your side, your free hand cradling his head to your chest as you ran your fingertips along the side of his neck. “you like that?” you whispered, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe pulled down the lacey trim of your nightdress. taking a handful of your ass, you gasped softly when you felt him slip one of your tits into his mouth, his tongue circling around your sensitive bud. “yes, it feels so fucking good, beautiful.” rafe gripped your flesh, the slight shockwave of pain shooting straight to your cunt. smiling softly, you pressed a kiss to his head before picking up your pace, the man in front of groaning at the sensation. you whispered praises in his ear, telling him how much you loved watching him come apart like this. rafe continued suckling on you until his hips started moving on their own accord, his high sitting hot and heavy in his core. unable to refrain from moaning, rafe let go of your tit with a pop! his jaw falling slack as he started thrusting into your hand. “can you cum for me, please?” your voice sounded sugary sweet in his ears, your words of encouragement only making him groan as he held on to the soft skin of your hip. “o-oh, god, yes— yes, i can do that for you, baby..” you shushed him, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his face before he cursed, his cum spurting onto his stomach in thick, white ropes. rafe shook as each wave of pure unadulterated pleasure washed over him, his bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth. you gradually slowed down your movements, allowing him to come down from his climax with ease. “holy shit,” he panted, “you’re perfect.”

[hanjist]

saw this pic of hanji so now im abt to freak the fuck out.

“that’s right. fuck yourself onto me, slut.”

“nothing but a filthy baby.”

“so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

all the words jisung says to you as you’re riding him, reverse cowgirl, of course.

his favorite position, no doubt. the way he can see the view of your ass bouncing on his dick. how he has eyes on your every curve from behind. a single reach of his hand on your clit, rubbing it in a fast but sensual speed. how he can slap your ass whenever he wants just because it’s right there in front of his eyes. it’s his dream.

call him filthy, but he loves the sticky feelings of your bodies pressed together. the sweat of you both combining when you’ve finally became the epitome of fatigue, your back against him because you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

“ji… jisung… ngh…”

the way he feels your cunt squeeze around him, it’s like he’s about to explode right there.

“yeah baby, fuck… cum on this cock. let me see. let me see you bounce on me again once you finish… please please please baby…”

if you can’t find yourself the strength to do it, he’ll just do it for you. grabbing at your waist to lift you up, right at the tip, to smash you down full force again. the only sound coming out of your mouth being a moan so lewd it’s almost like a cry for help. the way your mixtures of cum leak out right after… it’s all filthy. just how he likes it.